On Your Left
by Mischkia
Summary: Sam enlists Pietro's help in getting revenge on Steve.


**Author's Note:** There are spoilers for Age of Ultron ahead! You have been warned.

* * *

Every morning Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers go for a jog outside on the track of the new and improved Avengers facility. Well, _Sam_ goes for a jog; Steve sprints. Unsurprisingly, Steve passes Sam an average of three to four times before Sam even finishes _one_ lap. Needless to say, it's seriously starting to grate on his nerves, and if it bruises his ego too, well, it's not like anyone has to know.

The thing is it's not even _that_ big of a deal. Sam knows that Steve is essentially a superhuman, and it's physically impossible for him to keep up, in excellent shape or not. No, the worse part is that Steve likes to rub it in his face. Every time he passes by Sam he cracks a cheeky smile and in the most cordial voice he can muster warns, "On your left," but Sam knows Steve better than that - there's nothing cordial about it. He's a sly son of a bitch, and he says it just to get under Sam's skin.

That's okay though. Steve can keep making all the jokes he wants, because tomorrow? Sam is going to get even.

 **X**

Sam wakes up early the next morning. He decides to forego breakfast and launch right into his grand plan for the day. He passes Steve on his way to the lounge.

"Sam," greets Steve with a small nod of his head.

"Hey, man," Sam replies. He waves Steve over when the guy keeps walking.

"Something wrong?" Steve asks, drawing closer. He looks concerned. Sam almost reconsiders.

 _Almost_.

"Naw, brother, I'm fine. I was just wonderin' if you'd be cool if I skipped out on our run this morning," Sam explains, "I'm just feelin' a bit sore after yesterday's. Think I ran one mile too many, y'know what I mean?"

A slow smile creeps across Steve's face, and he looks briefly down at the ground as if to hide it. _Smug bastard_ , Sam thinks.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Steve says. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine on my own."

"If you say so," says Sam. He claps Steve on the back as he turns to leave. "Thanks, Cap."

 **X**

When Sam gets to the lounge, he finds the exact person he was hoping would be there: Pietro Maximoff. The newly appointed Avenger is sitting on the sectional watching TV and eating an apple when Sam walks in. He doesn't seem to notice, too engrossed in whatever show he's watching, until Sam sits down right next to him. (It's not too surprising if he's being honest. The Sokovian developed an interest in American TV when he was still on house arrest. Helen Cho-the doctor who resurrected him with the help of the Cradle-insisted he take it easy until his wounds were fully healed. Of course that didn't settle well with Pietro _at all_ , but that is neither here nor there.)

"Sup, Sonic," Sam says, arms draped across the length of the couch. Pietro peels his eyes away from the TV to look at Sam in confusion.

"I still don't know vhat that means," he comments, accent surprisingly still strong.

"Ya know what? Never mind," Sam dismisses the nickname with a wave of his hand and continues, "I came here to ask you a favor."

"Vhat favor?" Pietro asks, interest piqued.

Sam grins, "I'm glad you asked." He leans in conspiratorially, careful of prying eyes and ears, and explains his plan in a hushed tone.

Pietro nods when Sam's done, "I can do that."

"Thanks, man. I owe you one," says Sam, meaning every word of it. He hops up off the couch and starts making his way towards the track.

 **X**

Steve slows down to a much more leisurely pace when he catches sight of Sam. "Didn't think you were running today," he remarks.

"I'm not. I'm here for moral support," Sam counters. "Not that you need it, of course." Steve smiles.

"I'm just glad you're here," he says. Sam nods appreciatively and sits down on the metal bleachers nearby to watch Steve make his laps. Thankfully its surface is relatively cool, not yet made blistering hot by the sun that still hangs low in the sky.

A blur of blue whips by a few minutes later, a cloud of dust following in its wake. The blue stills beside Sam, revealing none other than Pietro himself. They both exchange a mischievous grin as they wait for Steve to come around again.

As expected, Steve stops and approaches the bleachers when he sees Pietro. "Hey," he says, only slightly breathless. "It's good to see you out here after… Well, y'know." Pietro nods.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, gesturing to the track.

"Oh, not at all," Steve replies. "There's plenty of room." He moves his arm in an expansive gesture towards the track as if to prove his point.

"Thanks," Pietro says, and then he's gone. Steve blinks and overall looks more than a little shell-shocked, and Sam has to feign coughing to hide his snickers. Steve shakes his head as if to clear away his surprise and jumps back on the track. Pietro laps him multiple times before he's able to make even one, and Steve's not bothered by it at all- _he really isn't_ -but after his seventh lap, that's when it happens.

Steve's running, minding his own business, and his eyes close briefly in blissful contentment. He opens them again only moments later and looks to his left to find that Pietro has slowed down to meet his pace. Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Pietro speaks first, "On your left." There's a sly wink and a downright _wicked_ smirk and then there's nothing.

Steve stops in his tracks, mouth still hanging open, when he feels another rush of wind. Pietro slows down again and starts walking backwards, arms spread open. "Vhat, you didn't see that coming?" he asks, and then he's gone. _Again_.

Steve doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't have to say anything, 'cause someone from his left ( _of course_ ) starts speaking, "Hey, Cap, if you don't close your mouth, you might catch flies." Steve looks towards the bleachers to see Sam stretched out and languid, sunglasses covering his eyes. He grins and sends Steve a little wave.

 **X**

Sam, Steve, and Pietro are jogging again. Well, _Sam and Steve_ are jogging; Pietro is sprinting.

"On your left!" Pietro sing-songs for the umpteenth time that morning as he laps them yet again. Steve huffs a sigh.

"Did you really have to tell him to do that?" he asks, indignant. Sam's just-if not, _more_ -irritated than Steve is (he has to hear "on your left" twice as much now), but he'd never tell him that. No, this is Sam's victory, not Steve's.

"Yep! How's it feel, Cap?" Sam inquires with a shit-eating grin.

Steve levels him with a dirty grin of his own, "It feels a lot like this," and then he's speeding up.

"Oh, c'mon!" Sam groans, throwing his hands up in frustration. When both Pietro and Steve approach him again, he tries to outrun them (yes, _really_ ), but to no avail. "Don't you do it," he warns in an angry stutter.

"On your left!" Pietro and Steve sing-song in unison as they pass Sam once again.

"Man, shut the hell up!" Sam shouts after them, irate.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I blatantly refuse to believe that Pietero's dead. I mean, honestly. I find it exceedingly hard to believe that someone whose power it is to run at superhuman speed was incapable of outrunning a bullet. Puh-lease. I am *Chris Traeger voice* _literally_ so far in denial about his alleged death that I might as well live in Egypt.

Anyways, this fanfic was inspired by two very amazing Tumblr posts that you should definitely go check out right away, but unfortunately I am unable to provide those links to you here. If you would like them, please visit my AO3 account by the same username (link in my bio) and read the author's note for _On Your Left_ or drop me a PM/review.

It's also worth mentioning that I have an extra chapter, or sequel, if you will, in the works. Here's a small hint at what's to come: Tony Stark. I'm not sure when it'll be out, but here's hoping I'll have it done by December.


End file.
